Warrior Queen
by PinkRangerV
Summary: Three POVs as Leia transforms into a warrior queen on the Death Star...and then is destroyed.


A\N: Leia's character just seemed broken throughout the movies. Like she was meant to be something wonderful, but just wasn't. So this is my take on it. Inspired by Warrior Queen, a lovely song by Kellianna, and the 'this is how it feels' sections of Return of the Sith's novelization. Also? _Damn_, is this hard to do without second-person! Jeeze, FFN, is second-person POV the antiChrist or something? *grumbles and struggles with third-person since she doesn't want her account suspended..._again_*

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**This is how it feels to be Leia Organa:**

She walks with her head held high.

She does not quite understand why, but she knows that somehow she has become stronger. Better. As she lay in the aftermath of Vader's torture, her mind broken and body bleeding, she was faced with a choice: Die, or rebuild.

And, slowly but surely, she rebuilt herself into this.

But she does not know what 'this' is.

For the moment, 'this' is the woman who walks, proudly but silently, ahead of Vader, her hands chained before her. She flows like a soft, sweet brook, quiet and docile. Her aunts, matchmaking biddies that they are (she should not have thought that, but she is still just slightly petty, even though she is this new woman), would be pleased. Docility wins husbands.

But it is only for the moment, so Leia ignores them.

They enter a room. A viewing chamber of some kind. Leia is not impressed.

When she sees Tarkin, she is also no longer docile.

She bursts into flame.

**This is how it feels to be Grand Moff Tarkin:**

He sees the girl.

She is beautiful, as always. But in place of the foolish half-grown girl stands...something else.

He knows when she snaps at him.

The old Leia Organa would have held her tongue. Yes, she was a snippy little thing-her aunts had spoken to her quite often about that, he was sure, no _real_ woman would allow another to be _that_ unruly-but she had some semblance of sense. She would not have struck out, even verbally, when he was in control.

Her heart was in control, instead of her mind.

Tarkin likes to think he is a worldly man. Women bore him, but he thinks he understands them. And he understands that they think with their hearts, rather than their heads. It is why he dislikes the female officers Vader places on the _Executor_. Why bother, when a man would serve far more efficiently?

But Princess Leia defies his knowledge.

She thinks with her head. Certainly she is kind and selfless and well-meaning, and there is an innocence there that Tarkin longs to shatter, simply for the thrill of watching it break, but she is cunning and, on occasion, cruel. Oh, Tarkin remembers one young man! Gone to ask her father for the Princess' hand in marriage, and returning with a blaster bolt to the chest.

They said, in whispers of course, that he had challenged the honor of the Princess. That she had shot him in self-defense. But what did that matter? She was just a snip of a girl. What right had she to kill? Why had her father not done the deed for her?

She was cruel. Like all women, Tarkin occasionally suspected, save that most women had the decency to hide their cruelty in public.

But, finally, Leia Organa is behaving the way he wishes. And that innocence, fragile and beautiful, is still there.

Oh, how well she hides it! Even Vader is fooled. But Tarkin, perhaps wishing it there, sees a little doll made of glass where a Princess stands.

And so he reaches out, takes Alderaan in his hand, and threatens it.

How well she responds, so ladylike, bowing her head in submission as she tells him, _Dantooine, the Rebels are on Dantooine_, and Tarkin turns to Vader with a triumphant grin.

Vader has never approved of Tarkin's theories on women or nonhumans. Tarkin's quiet snark tells him otherwise.

"You see, Lord Vader? She can be reasonable."

And then, very calmly, Tarkin closes his fist.

And the glass shatters.

**This is how it feels to be Darth Vader:**

He feels her shatter.

He knew, the second she stepped out of the cell, that she was not anything he understood. She had transformed.

Oops. How was _he_ to know that she would react to torture like _this_? Most people, when faced with his mental assaults, did _not_ rebuild themselves into warrior queens of lore.

His next reaction was anger. This_..._this _infant_ dared to defy _him_? To make herself_ stronger_? And, of all things, like Her?

But, met only with silence in his brooding, he had begun to wonder.

When she had all but leapt into flame, then he had known.

Princess Leia had always seemed rather...mystical. Otherworldly. Her constant wearing of the color white had only accentuated that. Popular artists drew her with gauzy, fae-like wings, or the metal staff of a sorceress. When she had struck out against corruption in the Senate, Vader had silently joined her campaign, trying not to take _too_ much amusement in how much she hated him.

She was the kin of the Ancients.

What was it that people used to call Force-sensitives? Witches? Vader was beginning to wonder if that was not a misplaced nickname, but rather a title. _This_ Witch had no Jedi or Sith aspect anywhere in her power. She was a warrior queen, tall, strong, and proud, and through the Force Vader could see her with a sword in her hand and in a woman's armor.

She threw a blow, Tarkin fell. Tarkin struck back, she parried. Tarkin lunged and she leapt to the high ground.

It was beautiful.

Finally Tarkin decided to end the battle. And, because he was that particular species of cowardly, disgusting slime commonly known as a 'Grand Moff Tarkin', he pulled out a hostage.

Alderaan.

Vader had instantly been revolted. He had almost killed Tarkin himself, then and there. His perverted interest in the Princess was one thing-she was more than capable of defending herself-but this was the most despicable thing he had seen Tarkin do yet.

The Princess had honor. Reluctantly, all but biting the words out (at least, if you had enhanced hearing; he doubted Tarkin knew she was lying), she threw down her sword and surrendered.

And Vader had felt admiration.

She had grown into a title and power that no one else could have. He entertained, for the briefest of moments, taking this woman as his apprentice. Surely, if the Emperor was allowed his Hands, he was allowed an impudent girl to serve him?

And anyway, her power lay far beyond his ken. He needed to know more.

(The thought that he could watch her exceed either Sith Lord, and feel a pride that he had once hope to feel for his own daughter, was kept safely locked away in his mind.)

But then Tarkin had taken his gun, pressed it to his hostage's head, and pulled the trigger.

And Vader felt her shatter.

Frantically he swept up a shield. But how did you shield such a power, attuned so well to her physical planet?

He could not protect her from the screams.

And then she died.

Vader nearly roared with rage. How dare he. How _dare_ he! Tarkin had taken a warrior queen, a myth come to life, and _destroyed _her! And, judging by that grin, it was for nothing.

Nothing but Tarkin's sick, perverted pleasure.

Rage consumes Vader as he holds the girl-woman in his arms. She whimpers softly, broken but alive, and Vader curses, so softly one could mistake it for his heavy breath.

This was a blow unlike any other.

Tarkin says something, a phrase well matching his disgusting pleasure, and Vader snaps back that he has managed to break their only link to the Alliance's secrets, and while Tarkin is at it would he like to dismantle the Death Star as well?

Then he sweeps the girl away.

She begins to weep in his arms. Vader does not permit himself thinking until he sets her down on the slab of concrete that passes for a bunk. Then he studies her.

His worst fears are realized. She is queen no longer.

She stares into space with broken eyes. Vader knows well that one trauma may lead to a hero's birth. Did it not happen with him, on the banks of Mustafar?

But two, so close together...

Vader settles his hand on the girl's forehead and sends her to sleep.

He will never have his apprentice now.

Over the next few years, Vader almost manages to forget. But then, on Bespin, Princess Leia appears.

He knew she was coming, but as soon as she turned the corner he _felt_ it. Broken. Disturbed. When, later, he interrogates her, he searches for any sign of the warrior queen within her, the Rebel who has so quickly become a daughter substitute.

He finds only imbalance.

Enraged, he tosses her into a wall, leaving her concussed. He stalks away before he can do further damage. It is not her fault that she is broken, and in fact he ought to respect her for healing as much as she has.

But he cannot help but remember the Witch she once was.

When he finds his son, the hurt is soothed. He has no daughter, but a son is nothing to laugh at. In fact, it makes him calmer, stronger, nobler, and even the new Admiral, Piett, notices, saying at one point how proud he is to serve under such a leader.

And, were it not for Tarkin, you would have said that _much_ earlier, Vader thinks cruelly before smothering the thought.

Then, finally, the last battle arrives.

Vader discovers, in the mind of his own son, that he has a daughter. That she is alive.

And then that she is Leia.

And he remembers back to the moment when he held her as she shatters and swears he can hear the laugh of Tarkin.

Because he will never meet the warrior queen again.

-_Finis._


End file.
